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It was a little known fact that the Shatterdome had a series of small lookout posts running along the top of its front face. Many years ago, they had been used to identify any kaiju emerging from a distance, unfortunate scouts being sent up with telescopes to relay information down to the J-Techs in command. This was a last resort at the time, but before Hermann had been sent to work on the jaeger coding and create a more practical and efficient means of monitoring the breach, the system often failed and the balconies found themselves in use. At first glance they may have seemed precarious, hanging over a sheer drop directly above the entryway to the main hangars, but they were solidly built, made entirely of reinforced metal. Despite their former crucial role, many were difficult to reach, some with only a fraying rope ladder in place of a sounder structure. Hermann, however, knew that the farthest left was accessible by means of a small door at halfway up the stairs to the helipad. It was relatively secluded, and he often found himself retreating up there after a long day’s work in the lab.
The night air was cold and biting, but he didn’t mind. It helped, in a way, he thought. The wind on his skin felt like needles, thousands of pinpricks charging his body with a buzz like electricity. It was good to be reminded that, even during an apocalypse, the planet and all her power still lives on. The sound of waves breaking against the rocks far beneath him was distant, an afterthought to the wide ocean that stretched out in front of him. It was difficult to be cooped up underground all the time, especially in a large and stuffy room where often the only noise was the whirring of computers and the fragmented scratching of his own chalk. He told himself often that he only came up there for fresh air, but as he sat on top of a metal box of PPDC issued distress flares gazing up at the sky, he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.
On a clear night, if you were very lucky, the smog and light pollution of the city would fade to reveal a milky blue sky, littered with greying pinpricks of light. It was nothing compared to the skies he used to see as a child, great splashes of blue and purple, like an intergalactic watercolour painting, with stars that shone so bright that they imprinted themselves on your eyelids. Ghosts of other solar systems and perhaps, he supposed, other worlds, but it would be unfair to say that it wasn’t still magical. Following the outlines of constellations with his finger was an old pastime, and if anyone were to ask he would deny ever doing it, but he did so nonetheless. Only the brightest of stars were visible, but he knew which ones they were, and as he closed his eyes could visualise the space around them flooding with colour. He pictured the dull, industrial sky turning a rich, deep blue; the stars burning brighter, their cores igniting with newfound passion and flickering like heartbeats, filtered through the Earth’s atmosphere. He could see the milky way in his mind’s eye, beautiful and vast, stretched out across the clear, dark sky, and imagined that he was a child again, straining his neck outside in the cold having snuck out in nothing but pyjamas just to watch the Perseids put on their annual show.
He sighed, and rested his cane against the solid railing that ran along the edge of the balcony. It was all so big, so endless and vast. To Hermann, the prospect of an infinite universe had always been amazing and terrifying all at the same time, and after days where people, good people, had been lost to kaiju attacks like today, it seemed all the more poignant. He leaned back against the cool iron wall just as the door to his left opened with a gentle click, allowing a short man in a beaten up leather jacket (that he was certain would fare no better against the cold night than his own blazer) to step out.
“Hey.”
Hermann slid over on the box to make room for Newt to sit down, which he did. They sat in silence for a while, looking out at the sky and listening to the faint swell of the ocean below, until Newt spoke again.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped by coming up here, I know this is your spot, it’s just… it’s been a hard day, man. We lost friends today.” He removed his glasses to bury his face in his hands. “We do all this work, and they still keep coming. It’s like we’re just running in circles.”
“You aren’t at all, Newton. I do not claim to own this place - and you are right.” Hermann sighed. “It’s… challenging. It’s hard not to feel a little hopeless in the face of such a monstrous offence.”
He reached across their seat to where the other man’s hand lay, gently lacing their fingers together. Newt seemed to relax a little at that, sliding back to join Hermann in resting against the wall. He gave his hand a shaky, but reassuring, squeeze, and looked up in an effort to follow his gaze. Hermann had returned to looking at the sky, even though the small patch of visible night had long since clouded over. He fancied he could attempt to visualize the stars again and was idly tracing the patterns on their makeshift seat with his spare hand. Newt watched, their fingers still entwined, and was surprised to find a lump rising in his throat, hot, stinging teardrops pooling at the corners of his eyes. He swallowed in what he hoped was a surreptitious manner and hastily replaced his glasses in an attempt to brush it off, breaking their contact. He was confused, but it didn’t take him long to find out what prompted the reaction. Fear. He was afraid. Afraid of…
He looked up again to see Hermann watching him with a concerned expression.
“Newton? Is everything okay?”
Newt’s voice had began to tremble, but he managed to steady it enough to speak. “Yeah, man, I guess. I don’t know, I don’t think so." Hermann shot him an inquisitive look, and Newt, in turn, stared at the floor. "That... could've been us, man. This is all so dangerous and that could easily have been us, that died today, it could have been you, I-"
Hermann, seeing Newt's fearful expression, pulled him into a hug. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other, each seemingly trying to hold the other as closely as possible. Newt leaned over and buried his head in Hermann's chest, allowing him to run his fingers gently through his hair, and there they stayed until their breathing was almost perfectly in sync, matching the gentle sounds of the waves. This time it was Hermann who broke the silence.
“It could have been. It could have been any one of us. But is that not why we’re all here?”
Newt seemed somehow to lean in even closer.“Yeah, of course, and if keeping you safe from the fearsome claws of a kaiju means dissecting black market monster testicles for the rest of my life then I guess I’m already in up to my elbows, literally.” His voice was muffled slightly by the proximity of his face to Hermann’s jacket, but the comforting hug he received in return showed that he had been understood.
“How charming.” Hermann shifted slightly as Newt sat up. “Really, and I will do anything in my power to keep you safe, whatever I’m able to do. You have my word.”
“I thought you didn’t go in for promises?”
“Principles can be abandoned.” Hermann said “Especially for those we love, and you, Newton, are my favourite exception.”
“Man, I’m so glad we’re in this shit together. I would not want to be alone right now. Even though it’s scary to have so much to lose, just hearing your voice makes it all so much more bearable.”
Hermann held his hand with what he hoped was a firm, protective grasp and then spoke. “We’re going to be okay, and I won’t ever let you be alone.”
Newt smiled at this, and although it was a weak, tired looking expression Hermann was still sure it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, just as it was every time. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and Newt didn’t so much laugh as exhale, a breathy chuckle that culminated in him craning his neck to return the gesture, failing to stretch far enough and headbutting Hermann in the chin with a soft thud. This caused them both to laugh, and Newt - who was definitely not easily deterred - became even more determined to reach his apparent end goal of kissing his partner into submission, the pair of them drowning out the sounds of the sea with peals of laughter and half-hearted protests. A break in the clouds of smog appeared briefly, and with the almost imperceptible light from worlds away being broadcast down upon them Hermann found himself wondering just how, in a vast and unending universe, he had managed to be so fortunate in the face of such devastation.
“I think we should go back inside.” He said eventually, reaching for his cane. “We’re probably missed in the lab, and it is getting rather cold.”
Newt had to agree, and they stood up to head for the beaten old door in the wall, but he still seemed hesitant to leave the balcony. “On one condition,” he said. “Since you’ve made me one promise already tonight, and that’s like, whoa, a Hermann Gottlieb seal of honour and I am so in love with you right now dude, I’m gonna make you one too.”
Hermann nodded in assent, a lopsided smile appearing on his face at the sight of Newt’s determined grin.
“When this is all over, Hermann, when we make it out alive and save the world like the rockstars we are, I’m taking you stargazing. Somewhere with a real sky, and absolutely no floodlights. Just us two. How does that sound?”
His eagerness was as infectious as always, and once again Hermann felt that electric buzz, except this time he was certain it wasn’t from the wind. He pulled Newt in close for a final hug before they left once again for work, their bodies pressing together and hands wrapped tight around each other’s backs, warm despite the cool night air.
“It sounds perfect.”